Monday, January 16, 2012

Be careful where your brain takes you on dark nights.....

I've had a bodgy back of late so I blame the happy trippy pain meds for what I'm about to share with you.
I figure that if I have to have the images carved onto my brain then it's the least you can do to share the horror with me.

Picture this....
*wavy dream-like special effect to show this is a dream. This did not really occur although there's every possibility it very well could*

Apparently our neighbours invited us to accompany them on a tour around Europe.
With 2 days notice.
According to my dream Dad shouted us the whole trip.
My dreaming self woke up to find that we were in a dark wooden panelled room with lots of carving, a la Black Forest cuckoo clocks galore and bearskin rugs on the freaking freezing floorboards.
Yes, I had dream-worthy hyperthermia.

Anyway, as I barely recalled the flight or the packing or the whole applying for a passport thing, hubby tells me he managed to get things sorted.
Except for the Nat Geo mags, Readers Digests and no clothes which I insisted on packing in my stupor brought on by mixing cheap red wine with travel sickness meds and anxiety.
Do you think my subconscious is telling me something there...?

So, we go for a wander in this Germanic-type country and find ourselves in, guess what...?
A religious retreat.
With it's own attached museum.
And shop.
Please remember the shop.

Next, I'm on my knees amidst the old carved, not praying but unpacking that useless reading material I packed (cos a tour of Europe isn't complete unless you lug unneccessary kilos of toilet-paper-substitute around the continent) and donating them to the religious retreat.
For those who didn't really want to retreat from the "Laughter is the best medicine" or "Test your word power" or those who claim to read the Nat Geo letters to the editor but really look at the photos of topless native gals.

And then it happened.
Sorry, that should read...And then (drum roll) IT happened!!!!!111!!!
I look up and in waltzes hubby waving his hands about to show me the religious icons he'd bought at the shop and was donating them back to the museum (although I tried to point out they were actually reproductions but, being male, he didn't listen).
And I was kinda distracted.
By what he was wearing.
Cos he hadn't just bought cheap knock-off icons in the shop.
Oh, no, my subconscious played merry hell with me and frocked him out in a floor length terry towelling pastal pink surplice (with gold embroidery on the bib) that tied at the middle leaving the sides open.
Remember...the sides were open.
He was only wearing a pair of red Rio jocks underneath.

And he thought this was perfectly acceptable??!!!!
Everyone knows pastal pink souvenir surplices clash with red jocks.
I woke up, promptly dragged all the blankies off him and smacked his bum for halting my dream before I got to explore more of Europe.
I may need to invest in some cheap red wine....


  1. Obviously, your brain was worried that you were going to get religion and dealt with it swiftly and surely.

  2. Hmmm... surplice with a split up the sides, jocks a colour only the devil would wear; I'd say a little flagellation was just what he had coming.

  3. That had me in fits of laughter. Man, that was an impressive dream.....the mind boggles as to what that all means or doesn't mean lol. Your right though pastel pink and red jocks do clash.

  4. Sounds like you want to become a born again christian :-).

  5. Man. I can hardly remember my dreams, let alone write them all down.

  6. The surreal in that dream could best be depicted by Dali. Next time you step into a dream like that please ask him to have painted it for us all. And in the meantime what meds and what wine produced this effect. I really, really need to know.

  7. Hah! Sounds like Switzerland to me, but we'll substitute Rio jocks for some Migros ones!

  8. That's a dream and a half!
    Bearskin rugs, cuckoo clocks and red jocks....what's the name of these trippy pain meds? Mine just send me to sleep.

  9. Men remember dreams more so than women, mainly those of women living the high life on the proceeds of his bank account